


Plant your trees and watch them grow.

by iscatterthemintimeandspace



Series: Giveaway Prize Ficlets [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Giveaway prize fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscatterthemintimeandspace/pseuds/iscatterthemintimeandspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What should have happened after Thorin's battle with AZOG</p><p>SPOILERS</p><p>A Giveaway ficlet for my 300 followers giveway for tumblr user. sienaruvithorn</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plant your trees and watch them grow.

“Go back to your books and your arm chair. Plant your trees and watch them grow. Farewell, Master Burglar.” Thorin’s lips cracked as he spoke, his mouth full of blood. 

Warm tears flooded Bilbo’s eyes, blurring his vision of the King Under the Mountain. “No,” he croaked. “No, no, no…” His hands were sticky with Thorin’s blood as he pressed the wound in his abdomen.

All he could hear was the strained tempo of Thorin’s breathing. After all this time, after all the hardship and triumph, it was going to end like this. Just the two of them on some forsaken, icy outcrop. 

The hobbit locked eyes with Thorin, the dwarf’s eyelids fluttering, and a hot fury grew in his gut. He had not come halfway across the world for Thorin to die on him. He had not escaped being eaten by trolls, riddling in the dark with a murderous Gollum, almost get burnt to a crisp, or nearly drowned clinging to an old wine barrel to watch the dwarf he loved die alone in the snow. 

“No!” Bilbo repeated more sternly this time, stanching the flow of blood with his coat. “You are not allowed to die, Thorin Oakenshield, do you hear me!?” he yelled. 

Thorin’s eyes snapped open, his blue eyes regarding his companion curiously. 

Bilbo continued. “I did not leave my nice warm smial, with my comfy chairs and my mother’s doilies for this. I did not run over half the Shire with no pocket handkerchiefs, or let myself be chased by goblins, treed like a squirrel, for this. I did not save you from a dirty warg, or nearly get roasted by a BLOODY DRAGON FOR YOU TO DIE,” he shrieked, panting. “I did not give you my heart for you to leave me alone in this world, you bothersome, pigheaded dwarf!” 

Despite the pain, Thorin was smiling, his breath coming slightly stronger. “Is that so, Burglar?” he rasped, his hand searching for Bilbo’s. 

The hobbit looked grumpily down at him. “That’s right, Master King. You are not allowed to die because I said so, and if you make the mistake of crossing me in this, I will break into the halls of your ancestors and drag you back by your bloody ear,” he threatened, stroking Thorin’s hand with his thumb. 

From above, the hobbit heard a whooshing sound, like birds in flight. “The Eagles,” he murmured, looking up. He waved his free arm at them frantically, willing them to come. “The Eagles are coming, Thorin!,” 

“Don’t leave me, Burg- Bilbo,” Thorin mumbled, holding Bilbo’s hand tighter. 

“I give you my word,” Bilbo replied cheekily, pressing a kiss to Thorin’s forehead. “You haven’t been able to keep me away thus far, I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, as the Eagles landed to take them away.


End file.
